


We All See the Same Sun, But We don't All Have the Same Fun

by DevinBourdain



Series: Manifest Destinies [6]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Western, Army, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Guns, Homelessness, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Theft, Tragedy, Vulcans as a first nations tribe, Western
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-08 06:27:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12248835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DevinBourdain/pseuds/DevinBourdain
Summary: Some of the defining moments of Chekov's life that lead him to joining outlaw Jim Kirk. Character origin story for Western Enterprises Series. Western AU.Winter is coming, Pavel Chekov can feel it in his bones. The days grow short as the nights grow long and the pathetic rags he calls clothes are doing less and less to stave off the chill. Survival is going to require a different tactic is he wants to see spring. What that tactic is, he isn't sure, his mother was the one that navigated things like food and shelter and now she's gone; orphaned since the tender age of seven.





	We All See the Same Sun, But We don't All Have the Same Fun

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The Star Trek characters are not mine, just borrowed for this story.  
> Warnings: language and violence and references to sex  
> Reviews are always welcome and appreciated

The children run down the street chasing a hoop as it rolls along and swatting at it with willow sticks trying to keep the hoops momentum going. Pavel could tell them the best spot to make contact with the hoop to maintain its trajectory but he just smiles as the group passes. There's a crackle of excitement in the air as the children leave the one room school house enjoying their brief bit moments of freedom before they're inundated with chores. Pavel doesn't fit in with the other children, far beyond the fact that he doesn't attend class at all or know the what it's like to be that carefree, even for a moment.

Winter is coming, Pavel Chekov can feel it in his bones. The days grow short as the nights grow long and the pathetic rags he calls clothes are doing less and less to stave off the chill. Survival is going to require a different tactic is he wants to see spring. What that tactic is, he isn't sure, his mother was the one that navigated things like food and shelter and now she's gone; orphaned since the tender age of seven.

His mother had been talented with a needle and thread, working after hours for the town tailor for a meager wage, enough to pay for space on the floor to sleep next to the stove in the kitchen at the old flophouse. Pavel lacks the skill to manipulate a needle like she could but the tailor throws a few cents his way for sweeping the floors. It's a kind gesture for a man who feels sorry for him but not enough to secure lodging and food. With the season changing he can't go very long without either in tandem.

The only alternative is to steal, either money or food or both but it's going to become rather apparent who the culprit is if he stays loitering around town. He's seen what people do to thieves and has no desire to reap those rewards. He keeps his ear to the ground for any work that he can convince an employer a child can do but the language barrier places an extra burden on the situations and a roadblock to success.

He catches wind of a cattle drive leaving town and imagines if he can ride a horse that should be all the skill needed. It promises not only pay, but food and accommodations along the way. It takes some doing and a few animated but broken sentences to convince the rancher to accept him but he secures the job. With the group not heading out until dawn the next day, Pavel returns to the barn he's been hiding in at night to collect the meager belongs he owns.

He carefully tucks his matryoshka doll that his mother had brought over with her from the mother land, a gift from her grandfather, a well worn copy of _The Tales of Mother Goose_ , that his mother had been using to teach him English and his mother's locket containing a lock of her hair and a hand painted portrait. It's all he has left of his family and while he knows the locket could fetch a decent price, he doesn't believe he's in dire enough straits to sell the last piece of her yet.

The Brightside of things is he'll get to see some of this land his parents had been so desperate to make it to. The dream of bright future lay across an ocean and while his father didn't live to see it, his mother set foot on the shores of freedom. Pavel's going to make sure he does one better than that, he'll make them proud of him.

Knowing he's leaving, Pavel sets off to wander around town and practice the finer art of pick pocketing. Practice makes perfect and well honed skills can only be an asset as he makes his way alone. Anything extra he can squirrel away could come in handy down the road and since he'll be gone by dawn, he'll get away with the crime.

When he heads out the next morning, he has a pocket full of coins and a bit of breathing room before survival becomes a pressing issue again. Things are looking up.

* * *

There aren't always cattle trains to attach himself to but Pavel learns the benefits of moving from town to town. It's not as romantic an experience as the drifters he's met in saloons have made it sound but he believes one day he'll have an epic story to tell of his own. It exposes him to new job offers and an ever changing supply of targets for his thievery, a shameful but necessary skill. New towns promise fresh pockets and no one ever seems driven enough to hunt down a thief for a couple of cents when it's clear he's blown town.

It's a lonely existence, never getting attached to people and never knowing where he'll lay his head next but it beats the alternative. There's also the benefit of never having to lose someone he cares about again. When he can't find a way out of town, Pavel resorts to stowing away in places like barns and sheds but the wind is particularly harsh tonight and neither promises any real warmth. It's then that he notices the school house at the very end of town. The children are at home tucked in their warm beds, safe with their families; there should be no one at school until early the next morning.

He tentatively tries the door and finds it opens without force. There's just enough light from the big bright moon nestled in the sky for Pavel to find his way around the room. He makes a small fire in the stove, just enough to ward off the night chill but not big enough that anyone will notice the stove in use tonight or realize any wood is missing tomorrow. There's a cot and blankets in the back room but it's too far away from the warmth of the fire to be useful.

Pavel does borrow one of the blankets and an apple from the cupboard and goes back to the stove to curl up. With food in his stomach and a soft blanket, he falls asleep quickly and sleeps soundly until dawn wakes the town.

With everything put back in place, Pavel sneaks out of the school house before anyone shows up for class. He hasn't improved his language skills much in the last year but manages to get by for the most part. It has cost him jobs and caused him to be swindled a time or two and he sits on the boardwalk watching the children walk to school envious of what they will learn today.

His prospects are scarce in this town, a poor farming community that's not big enough to see any real traffic and it looks like the only way out will be by stagecoach and bought fare. He counts his coins and comes up short of being able to purchase a ticket. The weight of his mother's locket is heavy in his pocket but his hand just won't retrieve it to take it to the jeweller for appraisal and sale.

He scouts the town, memorising every path, hole, shortcut and hiding place. If he's going to be stuck in town while he steals his funds, his possible getaways have to be smooth and perfect. He watches the people and when they come and go; what time the baker starts his day and when he closes shop. Every night Chekov makes his way back to the schoolhouse, with his stolen items and food and enjoys a meal in front of the stove. In the early light of morning he replaces the wood he's used from the pile out back that the school children chop during their morning chores and removes all evidence that he was ever there.

His quick thinking and well traced routes keep him ahead of the sheriff and any other angry pursuers but the town is becoming far too familiar for his liking. He almost has enough for a ticket out but has to pace his pick pocketing out less he be caught.

* * *

It's the melodic voice just outside the schoolhouse that wakes him from a deep slumber. Pavel's eyes snap open to find the room bathed in bright light rather than the muted pallet of dawn. His heart starts to race as he realizes he's slept in and the teacher is about to discover him. Frantically he folds the blanket and tucks it away in the back but he doesn't have time to slip out the back door as the teacher enters the front. He resorts to tucking himself into the closest, door cracked open slightly so he can keep an eye out for his opportunity to flee when the teacher has her back turned.

Heart hammering in his little chest he watches as she walks in and proceeds to the bookshelf to collect a stack of books to distribute amongst the desks. He waits with bated breath as she gets closer and closer but the harsh snap of an apple core breaking under her foot causes him to flinch.

She gracefully bends over and picks up the pieces of the discarded core, a frown coming over her. "Is someone here?" she calls, looking around the room.

Pavel can't bring himself to answer, unsure the punishment for his crime.

The teacher steps forward until she's almost at the closet door. "If you're still here, I need you to come out. You don't have to be afraid. I won't harm you," she promises, sweet and kind.

There's nowhere to run from where he is but he might be able to slip past her if he comes out. He needs to take his chance while it's just the two of them. Slowly he opens the door, looking bashful and afraid. It's mostly an act, a way to garner sympathy, but part of its genuine.

"Why, hello there," she says, sitting down at one of the desks. "What's your name?"

Chekov scuffs his shoe on the floor and bites his lip.

"I can't very well call you 'hey you.' And a gentleman always introduces himself to a lady," she instructs, firm but gentle.

"Pavel, ma'am," he stutters. "Pavel Andreievich Chekov, ma'am."

The teacher stands, doing a small curtsy. "It's nice to meet you Pavel. I'm Miss Rand. I haven't seen you in class. Were you sleeping in here?"

She has a look that suggests she already knows the answer and Pavel finds he can't think of a convincing story that would offer another explanation. He gives a small nod, avoiding eye contact. People that don't treat him like the vagrant he is often look at him with pity, neither scenario changes his circumstances in life. Some people just make out better in life; under different circumstances, he might have very well been a pupil in her class.

"Your family isn't around?"

 _"_ нет, no. Mama, she ... no longer alive," he whispers, large heavy tears slowly crawling down his cheeks.

Miss Rand kneels down and wipes away Pavel's tears. She glances around the classroom and nods to herself. "Well, there's a perfectly good cot in the back that no one uses at night and it's a smidge more comfortable than I imagine the floor is. It's all yours on three conditions. First, everyone has to work for their keep; you clean up after class, sweeping, chopping wood, fetching water, scrubbing the floor."

Pavel nods eagerly. It seems like a fair trade and nothing he isn't used to.

"Second, you have to attend class. All children should go to school and work on their studies. And third, you have to work hard at those studies. There are no slackers in my classroom. Is that understood?"

Chekov starts to nod yes before a tilt of Miss Rand's head corrects his action. "Yes, ma'am."

* * *

It's a good arrangement between Miss Rand and himself. It's the first time he's really purposely stayed in one place since his mother passed and definitely the first time he's ever attended school. There's a whole world open to him now in the pages of his school books, scribbles he couldn't decipher before suddenly sharing their secrets with him. The books are far more entertaining and informative than his copy of _The Tales of Mother Goose._ Pavel quickly discovers he has a penchant for mathematics and geography.

Miss Rand is always generous enough to bring a lunch to school for Pavel. It's nothing fancy, mostly leftovers and bread with a piece of fruit when it's in season but it's daily and keeps his stomach full. He can't ask for much more. His classmates take a little while to warm up to him; language being the biggest barrier but with Miss Rand's tutelage it isn't long before it's not as big an issue anymore.

It's the most stable two years of Pavel's life and it ends all too abruptly.

"I'm getting married, Pavel," Miss Rand tells Chekov one afternoon after class. "Jack and I are going to live on his ranch and raise cattle down south."

Silence is the only reply Pavel can manage. He knows Miss Rand has been undeniably happy the last few months, this Jack fellow clearly the best thing to happen to her but the news throws his future into chaos. He knows it wasn't real but for awhile he got to pretend he was just like all the other children. He's tied his existence to Miss Rand and with her leaving he no longer has a guarantee of shelter or food, leaving him to resort to his original means of procurement. He's nearly thirteen; it's almost time for him to make it on his own anyway.

"I'll explain the situation to my replacement, you won't have to worry about a thing, sweetheart."

Pavel wants to believe her but he knows how the world works. He purchases a ticket on the stagecoach and is gone by morning. This time, as he loses everything, it's on his own terms, as much as he can make it. He's educated and his English is superior than it was a couple of years ago; it's the biggest win he's had yet. The world is full of opportunities, he thinks, he'll land on his feet somehow.

* * *

Pavel runs through the town as fast as his legs will carry him. He offers half hearted apologies to the people he bumps into as he dashes down the street, taking sharp turns and climbing over obstacles anything to try and dissuade his pursuer. The pocket watch he liberated is heavy in his hand but he won't let it go; the price it will fetch is too important to ditch in the hopes his pursuer will give up the chase. Besides, he knows every twist and turn of this town and no one can navigate the streets like him.

He dashes through the blacksmith shop and jumps the fence to the corral before stopping to take a breath. Surprisingly, he hasn't managed to shake the soldier yet. Most people give up after a minute or so, they certainly don't go to all the trouble and obstacles Pavel has scrambled through for something as trivial as a pocket watch; it's not like it's made of solid gold or anything. His reprieve, only a flight of fancy, Pavel starts running again.

"Come back here you little thief," shouts the soldier, closing ground behind Chekov. Pavel takes the next left heading back towards the main street, there's a low hanging roof that's easy to shimmy up to and from there run along the roof tops towards the next street. As determined as this Lieutenant is, he certainly can't be willing to follow him there.

Pavel gets his second wind, pulling ahead of his blond pursuer. He has a moment of panic as he spots the second soldier, a captain leaning causally against one of the support posts ahead of him. Chekov can out run one but not two. He relies on his speed, agility and knowledge of his environment to save him, using the hitching post to leverage himself up to grab the ledge of the roof. As he hauls himself up, he catches the amused smile on the Captain's face as he stands there watching Pavel's gymnastic efforts.

"Let him go," says the Captain as the Lieutenant reaches the post out of breath. Chekov slows down just enough to hear the Lieutenant's reply and ascertain if the chase that's clearly wearing on both of them is truly over.

"But he stole my watch!" protests the blond, looking at the rooftop longingly.

"He needs it more than you," counters the Captain. "Come on, I have a possible recruit I want to look at." There's an air of authority in his voice that suggests it's more than a suggestion.

With the chase over, Pavel can finally stop. Changing direction he heads towards the town jeweller to trade in his latest prize. The sooner he parts with it the sooner the evidence is gone and he has money to get himself something to eat; the unexpected chasing really working up an appetite.

* * *

Pavel's carved out a reputation as an excellent scout and tracker. The work pays pretty good when bounty hunters and travellers can get past his youth and hire him. At fifteen it's not that they don't see him as an adult now but can't imagine him having the experience that has earned his reputation. In the intern between jobs he sticks to pick pocketing, it's what he's good at and it keeps his skills sharp.

It's spring time and the ground is soft and muddy, making traction a little precarious in places. Pavel leans against the side of the general store and listens to the clopping of the stagecoach horses. His pursuers are getting closer but he has a sure fire way to ditch them before they grab him for stealing their pay. He counts down the seconds for the horses to close the distance before dashing out in front of the stagecoach. The men giving chase make to follow but the mud makes it difficult to stop before sliding into the horses startling them and causing a fuss.

A warm smile spreads across Pavel's face as the sounds of confusion mean his victims are tied up and unable to follow. He's already dreaming about how he's going to spend the money as he reaches the post. A hand wraps tightly around his wrist halting his ability to make the climb.

"I've seen this trick before," says the owner of the hand as he pulls Pavel away from the post.

"Nyet, let go," snaps Pavel. He struggles to break free but the grip doesn't loosen and he can hear the men whom he liberated the money from gaining on him. Nothing good is going to happen if they do catch up; Pavel likes his hands attached to him, thank you very much. This new predicament isn't painting any glorious pictures either.

It's been a year but Pavel hasn't forgotten the face of the captain that let him escape with the Lieutenant's watch. He swallows hard as the captain pushes him against the wall and reaches into each of his pockets, searching until he comes up with the roll of dollar bills.

The captain looks at Pavel's ill-gotten gains and shakes his head, almost like he's disappointed. His grip is firm but not cruel, still Chekov can't seem to break away as he struggles to pull free; the owners of the cash coming up to the pair.

"Here," says the captain, tossing the roll to the two men without taking his eyes off of Pavel.

"Little thief! I'll teach you to steel from me," yells one of the men raising his fist to drive it hard at Pavel's head.

Pavel clenches his eyes shut and braces himself for the blow but it doesn't come.

"He's not your problem anymore," warns the captain, "he's mine."

"But," starts the other man.

"No but. Walk away before we have a problem." The captain turns his hip slightly so the sun casts a glint off of his side arm. Looking disappointed, the men walk away mumbling threats of what Pavel can expect as soon as his bodyguard disappears.

Chekov may have avoided a beating for the moment, but he has a feeling he's just gone from the fire into the frying pan.

"Let's go get a drink, son," says the captain and it's anything but a request as he drags Pavel along by the arm.

They take a seat at a table in the back and the captain refuses to let the bartender serve Chekov anything with alcohol. They sit there in awkward silence until the bartender brings their drinks. Pavel isn't going to start, he isn't going to be the one to provide the rope to hang him.

"I think there are better uses for your talents than petty theft, don't you?" asks the captain.

Pavel shrugs his shoulder. There are lots of things he could be doing but not everyone has the opportunities to be more than they are. He thinks he's done pretty well with what he's been given.

"What's your name, son?" When Pavel doesn't answer, the captain adds, "You do have a name don't you?

Chekov bites his lip and weighs his options. "It's Chekov, Pavel Andreievich."

"Well, Chekov, Pavel Andreievich, I'm Captain Christopher Pike and I've heard tales of an amazing scout out this way, young, but amazing. I was thinking of offering him a job to work for me. It means traveling with the army but that also includes shelter and daily meals. It means not having to steal anymore, which would be expressly forbidden. You wouldn't know where I could find him?"

There's a sincerity in Pike's eyes that makes Pavel want to trust him. It's certainly the best offer he's gotten in a long while and one that could potentially have a future. The pros and cons pile up in his head but maybe it's time for a change, a chance to see the sun from another angle. "I will be your scout, Captain." Worst case scenario, he can always slip away during the night as the army travels between towns.

* * *

Pavel technically isn't in the army, still too young and Pike won't lie about his age, but he follows the same rules and procedures. It also means he gets to partake in the same shenanigans as the other men. Lieutenant Kirk is responsible for most of the fun activities, which usually involve Mr Scott. Scotty is full of information and always keen to share, which works great for Pavel, who soaks up everything like a sponge. Between the two officers, they teach Pavel all the essential skills, both appropriate and inappropriate, much to Pikes chagrin. He finds himself hooked on all of Scotty's tales as they sit around the campfire at night and stands in ruptured attention on lazy afternoons as Kirk teaches him how to shoot.

There's something about the feeling of cool steel resting in his hand and the explosive power it threatens to unleash at his bidding that's intoxicating. It's like the thrill and rush that comes from picking someone's pocket. Jim shows him how to properly take care of his weapon and often blesses him with the opportunity to use one of Kirk's personal guns.

"The secret is to treat her like a lady," says Jim as he fondly strokes his hand up and down the barrel of his prized possession with a polishing rag. "She's gonna save your life one day, so you gotta give her love and attention."

Chekov nods his head, eyes glued to the true piece of artwork in Kirk's hand. Jim's guns all have stories that are so enormous and enamouring they rival any adventure book ever written. The fact that he even puts any of these guns in Pavel's hands for practice is like being touched by god.

As impressive as his new friends are, Pike insists Pavel's scouting and tracking are equally so. They pass out of the area Chekov has come to know intimately and he begins to wonder if his usefulness has finally found and end. A nervous excitement runs through him every morning as he scouts ahead of the men through new lands. He hasn't failed yet and that can only mean good things in the future. With any luck, when next year rolls around, Pike will finally let him enlist and he can officially be part of the army and on his way to being an officer.

* * *

Not being an officer yet has its draw backs as Pike selects Kirk to go on a peacekeeping mission to participate and learn during the Vulcan negotiations and he takes Scotty with him.

"Here," says Kirk handing his colt over to Chekov. "You need to keep practicing while we're gone if you ever hope to convince Pike to let you join and I need someone to take care of it while I'm tied up in peace talks."

Pavel reaches out to take the gun, stunned into silence by both the offer and the trust the Lieutenant is placing in him. This is the first gun Kirk ever acquired for himself and the one he plans to use to kill the man that murdered his father. This is the trusted sidearm of the late Sheriff George Kirk. Jim never lets it out of his sight and while it's not army issue, Pike lets him keep it. The fact that Kirk feels safer leaving it with Pavel as opposed to hiding it among his things as he reports to a new commanding officer for awhile gives him a sense of belonging he hasn't felt since Miss Rand.

"Keep her safe for me, kid. I'll be coming back for that," Kirk stays sternly.

Chekov pulls it tight to his chest like it's the most precious object in the universe. "Nothing will happen to it," he swears. He'll look after this treasure with his life.

* * *

Pavel not being an officer means he has to stay behind which isn't the worst thing in the world but camp is certainly quiet with Kirk and Scotty gone. While his youthfulness never bothered the two officers, not all the men feel obligated to continue to socialize with him now that they're gone. It also means Kirk's silent protection has disappeared without his presence.

For the most part it's shoving and tripping that can be attributed to clumsiness on the other men's parts to any officer paying attention and isolation in group settings. Being alone never bothered Pavel before but now it feels worse. His brief taste of being part of the group has made suddenly not feel like being lost as sea and unable to catch the attention of a ship passing by. Still, when Captain Pike asks him if everything is alright, he puts on his usual carefree smile and assures him things are just fine. He'll work it out; Pike's given him a place he can't bother the man with petty things like seeking advice on how to fit in with people he has nothing in common with.

It's after breakfast when Chekov comes bounding back to one of the sleeping tents to start his morning routine of caring for Jim's gun when he finds a group of men standing around his cot. He braces himself for the usual taunting and antics but feels a fire ignite when he sees what's in Sergeant Hastings's hand.

"What's a guttersnipe like ya doing witt a colt this perdy?" snarls Hastings.

Pavel just glares. Hastings isn't a fan of Kirk's and he certainly isn't a fan of Pavel's. Everyone knows who the proper owner of the gun is and there isn't anything Chekov can say that's going to dissuade these men from their intentions to make him miserable but he's not going to take this lying down. He tilts his head towards the gun and says, "Dat is not yours."

"You stole it. We all know you're a thief, but to steal from the one person that's bin shielding ya is a level of disrespect even we can't stomach." Hastings leads the charge towards Pavel, his lackeys following behind like a pack of dogs swarming a wounded rabbit.

He struggles but soon finds strong rough hands wrapped tightly around his arms as they drag him towards his cot. Hastings's gut rumbles as he laughs to himself and proceeds to dump Chekov's satchel out on the cot. The loose change from late night Kirk orchestrated card games is quickly snatched up and pocketed. Most of his things are army issued except for the wooden set of dolls, story book and locket. The locket catches Hastings eye. It's the only thing of actual value besides Kirk's gun in Pavel's possession.

Chevkov snarls as Hastings's meaty hand runs over the intricate design of the locket. "For payment of all the good honest folks ya stole from before," he says as he opens the locket. "Well aint she a beaut," he coos with a lustful glint in his eye before showing off the delicate portrait within to the perverted eyes of his followers. "That'll keep me warm on many a cold night, I reckon."

Chekov sees white. An animalistic cry rips from his throat as he tears and pulls against the men holding him enough that he breaks free of their grasp. He's on Hastings in a flash, fighting like a cornered animal.

Pavel's small and fast but these men are well trained and determined. There's also too many for him to dodge and evade for long. A solid punch to the face knocks him off balance and stumbling out the door of the tent. The bright sunlight doesn't help his swimming vision as he tries to take in his surroundings and dodge the next hit. Pain explodes in his back as Hastings drives his meaty fist hard into Chekov's kidney causing his knees to buckle and the ground rush up to meet him.

He knows how this ends and it's with his blood painting the dirt. Kirk's gun will be gone and his mother's blessed memory will belong to a vile man who plays at being a war hero but he can't find the coordination to find his feet again.

There's a loud clank and suddenly Hastings is lying face down in the dirt beside Pavel. The man's unconscious, a goofy grin carved into his face despite suddenly finding himself in the same situation as his former prey. Chekov rolls over onto his back and squints to block out the sun. There's a tall figure standing over him and between Hastings's gang wielding a frying pan. No one seems to want to confront the cooking implement carrying man, instead the men stand there like spooked cattle.

"Take your friend and get out of here," commands Pavel's saviour, still brandishing the cast iron like a gun.

The men scoop up Hastings and begin to stagger away as the man offers a hand to get Chekov to his feet and claim Kirk's discarded gun.

"My locket," slurs Chekov, the world tilting dangerously as he achieves something resembling vertical. "They have my mother's locket."

The man cocks Kirk's gun and points it at the group of men trying to engage in a tactical retreat. "You heard him. You have his mother's locket. I suggest you give it back to my friend."

"Awe Sulu, we didn't mean nothing by it," offers one of the lackeys as he pries the locket out of Hastings's hand and passes it over.

Sulu doesn't say anything, just keeps the weapon steady until the locket is safely back in Chekov's hand and the men have disbanded to other corners of the camp. He turns to Chekov and passes the gun back to him. "You should take better care of that. Kirk is pretty particular about it."

Pavel takes the gun and stares at it for a moment. He's never really considered exactly what it would take to pull the trigger on someone else before. When push came to shove he fought back with tooth and claw and thinks he might have what it takes to pull the trigger against someone he knows if so ordered. He knows that's what Pike and even Kirk in his own way have been trying to protect him against, but he's not that innocent kid anymore even if no one else can see it.

Sulu walks silently back to the fire and perches on his stump to tend to his stew. Pavel's never had direct dealings with the camp cook before but now he owes him a debt. Sulu is known to the men for mostly his cooing skills but there have been times Pike has used Sulu to go on missions and there seems to be a silent respect for the quiet mysticism Sulu exudes while keeping mostly to himself. Kirk and Scotty seem to get along with him and they both seem to be a decent judge of character. Chekov saunters over to the fire and sits down next to his saviour. Neither says a word to break the silence but the quiet isn't uncomfortable.

* * *

Chekov finds himself giving a hand to the camp cook. Their differences separate them from the rest of the men but don't have any bearing on their forming friendship. Sulu is like the big brother Pavel never had and the pair become thick as thieves before spring gives into summer.

Sulu fills the space left by Scotty and Kirk's absence. He even takes over Pavel's gun training and has his own fair share interesting tales to spin. He even demonstrates his unique touch with animals, giving Pavel tricks and tips to have better control over his horse. Sulu's trying to teach him the finer points of making stew when the serene atmosphere of camp is disrupted by a rider racing into their midst. The rider follows Pike into his private tent and everyone stands around trying in vain to eavesdrop on the news.

"That can't be good," mutters Sulu as he stirs the pot over the fire.

Chekov thinks he must be a good poker player because Sulu's face never gives anything away. The air is tense and reeks of death though no blood has been spilled on this tranquil ground. The anticipation is like ants crawling over his skin and he can't help but fidget as he tries to stay seated.

The rider leaves and all eyes on camp suddenly become enamoured with the dirt as he passes back to his steed and takes off out towards the horizon. Pike stands at the entrance to his tent looking contemplative and burdened like the world is solely his responsibility from this point forward. His gaze sweeps the camp until he stops to look pointedly at Sulu and Chekov. His expression becomes pinched but doesn't utter a word as he turns back into his tent.

"That's really not good," mutters Sulu.

* * *

It's two days before they get any answers but by then the camp is a muck with wild accusations and conjecture. It isn't clarification Pike offers rather orders, orders that contradict the last ones issued and don't seem in any way beneficial to their original standing. They begin the long journey to Fort Tantalus, part of the small town of Talos, at a hard grueling pace dictated by Pike's determination to follow this course.

The fort is a warzone when they finally march in. Destruction has touched every inch and the people look as though they're still coming to terms with what happened. Chekov swallows hard as he thinks about his friends being in the middle of this when they were supposed to be involved in peace talks. The people are grateful they arrive though; extra hands to start to piece together the fort and town and restore it to something recognizable.

Chekov spends most of the first few days lending a hand alongside Sulu who manages to watch the captain and other officers without blatantly doing so. Pike hasn't said anything about why they suddenly came here or what's going on or the whereabouts of Kirk and Scotty. Kirk's fate is learned from the gossip of disgruntled soldiers and traumatized settlers.

"It can't be true can it?" asks Pavel. He has a hard time imagining Jim leading an uprising against his own troops or ransacking a town just because he can. That's not the person he knows and it isn't the type of person Pike surrounds himself with.

Sulu rolls his eyes. "Do you really have to ask?"

Chekov shakes his head no. What he knows to be true and what people are saying around the fort are two different things and he fears that those that know Kirk are greatly outnumbered by those that believe the worst of him. Pavel was just becoming comfortable with this makeshift family and isn't looking forward to yet another loss in his life. The army is calling for Jim's head and though Pike seems to have a lot of influence, Chekov secretly worries that it won't be enough this time.

Pike storms out of the fort commander's office looking every inch pissed off. Sulu is braver than Chekov, asking, "Is there any news?"

Pike stops by his two soldiers, deflating slightly. "Kirk's wanted for treason. When captured, he's to be brought before a military court and hung. They seem unwilling to entertain any alternate views about what happened with the Vulcans."

"Is there anything we can do to help him?" questions Chekov. There's a shortage of good people in this world, it would be a shame to kill one needlessly.

"The army's not going to help Jim and they're certainly not going to let me help him by finding the truth." Pike looks forlorn and a little lost, like this is the fork in the road and he only has one chance to choose a path and forever live with the consequences. "So I'm going to have to help Jim without army approval."

Sulu stands up tall and proud. "You can count me in, Sir."

"I can't ask you to do that Sulu. You have a promising career here, you shouldn't throw that away," counters Chris.

"With all due respect, Sir, that's bullshit. The only reason I'm here is because of you and the only one that gives me a fair shot is Kirk. He'd do it for anyone else, so it's the least I can do," proclaims Sulu.

Pavel chews on his bottom lip. He hasn't had a home like this since the schoolhouse with Ms Rand and the prospect of losing it is terrifying. The army is just a home and a home is meaningless without a family. Plus he has Jim's gun and it sounds like he's going to need it now more than ever. He pulls out the gun from his coat pocket and admires it as the sun glistens off the well polished metal. It's the same sun that's been shining on him his whole life but suddenly instead of a life of tragedy he feels like he has a useful purpose; a chance to repay the kindness he's been shown in recent years. "I must give this back to Lieutenant Kirk personally," he declares, throwing his lot in with Pike and Sulu.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to everyone who read this story and/or commented, you're the best.  
> Next story: Pike's More Stories than the Devil has Sinners


End file.
